EVENT #3: THE COST OF INNOCENCE

[aionmods]

The Cost of Innocence

INVESTIGATION

As the Aions arrive in Venera, they will find the natural beauty of the city in sharp contrast to its uncomfortable aura. Though the sun still shines and flowers still bloom in a place filled with physical vibrancy and life, the air itself is impossibly still, as if wind no longer blows. You can taste the stagnancy of it when you breathe, and the pleasant sights only make that feeling of absence more haunting. The streets are mostly empty, with most of the city's residents hiding away in their homes, fearing the touch of whatever illness has caused this. That is, all the citizens besides those most affected, who wander the streets in a lifeless and painless daze.

Normally, Venera would be occupied by both Hylician and Achamite soldiers, but it quickly becomes apparent that both have abandoned the city, only guarding its furthest outskirts. Their reasons vary: the Achamite soldiers seem to take religious objection to the feeling of the city, believing it to be some trickery of the Innocent, while the Hylicians simply see it as a plague they have no interest in catching or spreading. Because of this, it will be easy for Aions of both sects to explore with little pushback from any form of law enforcement. The Kenoma will be directed into the city with warnings about the potential physical and spiritual danger while Pleroma will be able to sneak in mostly unbothered. After all, no one is eager to follow you.

Most shops and businesses are currently closed, though some uninfected individuals still nervously keep watch over their workplaces, fearing potential looting. It's difficult, but not impossible, to find people to talk to, and while the most plentiful wanderers are the infected, the reactions from those with their minds still intact will vary. Some will be eager to speak to anyone who looks like they're trying to do something about their situation, desperate for any source of outside help. If revealed you are an Aion, this may either entice them even further or cause them to retreat, as if fearing that you are somehow to blame for their plight. For those that are enticed, it will become clear that they hold onto faith that Aions are in Horos to save them, and will tell these new arrivals whatever they can without discriminating between sects.

The base level information that can be found is thus: the infection began at the same levels it has been in the rest of Horos, only for the numbers of the afflicted to rapidly accelerate upon the coming of the Innocent's Moon. Some see it as a form of divine punishment for their cooperation with the Regent, while the less cooperative citizens see it as a malady brought about by the Aions themselves, their only hope being that they will be able to clean up the mess they made. Some citizen have managed to corral their inflicted loves ones into their rooms and will be willing to introduce you; most of these individuals are past the point of conversation, and seem fully lost to whatever fantasy world they are experiencing. They are disinterested in eating or drinking and it seems like, without help, they are destined for a slow death of starvation and atrophy. That is, if their apathetic state doesn't result in a severe accident, as it has in many cases already.

Any other clues will take more dogged investigation. It will be a day or so after the majority of Aions have arrived in the city that the first signs of their own infections become clear.

HEAVENLY BODIES

The first to feel its effects will be the Innocents, Lovers, and Celebrants; like a voice has fully awakening to them, whispering of how their touch can be the cure to the others' pain. It bids them to take their fellow Aions into their loving embrace, to share this gift, as only suffering lies ahead. It expresses without words that it will be a shield for their Aion kindred, and that those that accept will become their outstretched hands to a cosmos that craves peace. Any form of physical contact with those three Legacies will either introduce or rapidly accelerate the infections experienced by the others, this effect only becoming more intense if the wielder intentionally forces the power of this strange entity into their victims.

Even without that accelerating touch, however, other Aions are not necessarily safe; the infection will still seep in, albeit more slowly. All Aions may experience a growing feeling of connection to the infected Venerans, as if the energy within them is being drawn into their their own bodies. As the Aion's symptoms worsen, the the ones suffered by the Venerans will gradually lessen, though not go away entirely. It seems that the Aions soaking up this strange power is enough to take the edge off of what is happening to the citizens: but at what cost?

Various symptoms will manifest in afflicted Aions with outcomes far more diverse and devastating than what the Veneran civilians have experienced. Visionaries, Firebrands, and Artisans will suffer the most catastrophic symptoms, the clash between their spiritual natures and that of the Innocence being the most extreme. This malady is characterized by its innate desire to quell its victims of their resistance, smothering them in artificial peace, even if it has to deprive them of their bodies and minds to do so.

It is not without treatment, however. It will gradually become apparent that feelings of intense suffering or upset are capable of purging the infection, that clash with painful reality seeming to wake them up from their trance and reduce or eliminate physical symptoms. The more intense the distress, the more effective it will be. Fortunately, this heightening of Aion spiritual energy has the added consequence of making empathic communion connections far more acute. Instead of just transmitting and receiving emotions and thoughts, Aions will find themselves more easily able to enter the delusions and memories of their kindred, drawing them out and manipulating them for this purpose. The catch is that they will only be able to access what is on the surface of the other Aion's mind.

When an infection is reduced or expelled this way, the energy causing it seems to be dispelled from the city, lowering the intensity of its ambient effects. While similar can be done to Veneran citizens to help treat them, the energy will not leave, and will either go into the Aion casting it out or return to the nebulous source of Innocence and eventually infect someone else. Something about going through the Aions specifically seems to act as a filter, as unpleasant of a way as it is to help.

IN THE SILENCE

For those unlucky enough to develop complete, or near complete, infections (IE. a full Innocence petrification) a presence will awaken within them regardless of their Legacy. It will urge them to join with it, to embrace the peace it offers, and to become the extensions of their will in this ravaged world. With an infection of this intensity, there will be little they can do but to hear its call. What exactly this would ultimately entail is unclear, but there is the sense that his entity is looking to join with you on a spiritual level. If your character becomes infected to this degree please let us know under the Committed Actions toplevel below along with the context of that transformation and whether or not they are being cured from it. You may receive some additional information in return!

QUESTIONS

What is the best way for Aions to travel to Venera?
The quickest travel paths are for Kenoma to take a boat from Achamoth, which will take about a day, and for Pleroma to teleport to the Celebrant's shrine and take either a carriage or river boat to the city (there are offshoot rivers not marked on the setting map). The riverboats would be the faster option option of the two, and would also take about a day. The carriages/delivery carts would be slower and take a couple days, but have relay access to horses and therefore could keep going overnight. Characters with flight are also able to use that, though flying right into the city might cause a bit of spectacle. Then again, none of the local law enforcement is eager to chase you at the moment.

Are Veneran civilians experiencing the same symptoms as the Aions?
Veneran civilians are only experiencing apathy/loss of self/daydreaming and maybe the loss of pigments/color for advanced cases. The more body horror orientated effects are Aion only and are being caused by their body's spiritual makeup.

Can 'cured' Aions be reinfected?
Yes! Even if cured or treated, symptoms can return or worsen again. This will keep happening until the build up of Innocence energy in Venera is entirely expunged, at which point the illness will fade away across the continent. Whether or not the Aions mere presence will be enough to trigger that is yet unknown, but it does seem to be helping lessen the effects suffered by the civilians, at least.

How long does the infection period last in Aions?
Chronologically, we are considering the infection period of the plot to last 2-3 days.

Comments

lottie person | kenoma | visionary

[oomfies]

[ i will only be doing closed top levels for this event!! if you want one written or want to plot something out, feel free to hit up my plotting comment over here! ]

gray 🌸

[oomfies]

[ Lottie tracks blood into the building.

She can't help but do it, leave a trail of thick and obscene red behind her. Feathers coat the substance, the pure white tainted a watery pink, the older ones sporting a burgundy brown. She locks herself in a bathroom of some abandoned house, has been locked inside for some time - she coughs wretchedly and cries loud and desperate, ]

I'm a monster. I've always been a monster!

[ By now, she's lost her hand, just a jagged sort of stump decorating her wrist. She still places it against the mirror like it should be there, like she should see her hand still gripping at nothing. Digging little crescents into her skin until she convinces herself she's fine. Always fine.

But then she hears something - a knock, a voice, a wrangle of the door knob - and she holds her breath. Her tears stream down her cheeks even harder as she makes her voice pleasant and nonchalant, despite her earlier cries. ]

C-Caroline!! Don't come in here! I'm okay just, touching up!

[gravings]

[ The trail of blood down the street is awfully alarming, and even someone as flighty and nervous as Gray can't help but want to investigate. She follows it to what appears to be a neglected house. She thinks about leaving then, because maybe the injured party is already take care of themselves inside, when she suddenly hears an anguished outburst. She can just manage to recognize that voice, though the raw emotion in it is thoroughly unlike the confident, charismatic tone Lottie displayed at the party.

Gray gathers up her courage and timidly lets herself in through the house's open entrance. When she gently knocks on the door of the bathroom Lottie has evidently hidden herself away in (there's so much blood), she's shocked to hear Lottie's attempt at reassurance. And... Gray doesn't know who Caroline is, but figures her voice will make it clear to Lottie that Caroline isn't here. ]

Um, there's a lot of blood here. I can help. If you need any towels, bandages, or a change of clothes...

[ Lottie doesn't sound like she's dying, at any rate, so that's good... ]

[oomfies]

[ She stares hard at herself in the mirror, deliberately ignoring the fact she's experiencing every phantom sensation of a hand that should be there and that she looks like shit. That she's bleeding probably more blood than her body has to offer and she's half chicken, half hot girl. And that, importantly, it's weird Caroline is offering her help.. But she's just so glad she's here and being kind she doesn't want to question it. Lottie decides she's going to swallow down every insecurity she has, swallow down all the things she wants to ask Caroline, and bask in this moment. ]

If I could get a towel, that would be cool..

[ At least with a towel she can clean herself up, look semi decent before she comes in here. ]

No big deal if you can't, [ The tail end of this sentence is comprised of Lottie trying hard to suppress the pain in her voice, as a burst of feathers sprout through her skin and rip themselves out of her body in a matter of seconds. ] i-it's nothing serious!

[gravings]

[ Gray stands in front of the door a little doubtfully — just one towel? — nothing serious? — and then listens as highly suspect sounds of pain and ripping skin burrow their way through the door. It's a little silly to her that Lottie would try to downplay this, but maybe she doesn't want Gray to worry... ]

Alright... I'll be back soon.

[ She trots away at a brisk pace, remembering where there was a store that sold plush, towel-like fabrics. They seemed on the expensive side, finely woven and more suited to being looked at never touched rather than being used to sop up ludicrous amounts of blood, but the pickings are slim with the city as shuttered as it is.

Soon, Gray returns with a few of these towels in her arms and knocks on the door to the restroom yet again. ]

Miss Lottie, it's me.

[ Does Lottie even know Gray's name... Gray wouldn't be surprised if she didn't. ]

[oomfies]

[ Frankly, she needs more than a towel, but she's never going to admit she's looking like Snottie Lottie to Caroline, even if she thinks it's cute. So she waits, tearing out feather after feather in preparation of meeting Caroline for the first time in months. Predictably, she still looks awful, but she tries to gas herself up.

She's interrupted mid pep talk when she hears a knock on the door and her gut churns, a mix of anticipation and anxiety filling up her belly. She hesitantly opens the door, peeks a doe eye between the sliver of the open door before shutting it.

Lottie breathes once, twice, before opening it again to let her hand peek through. It is pristine and clean, save for the blood caked beneath her fingernails. ]

Hey, um, seriously.. Thanks. And sorry..

[ It's loud, and a bit more confident than before. She gestures for her to hand the towels to.. Her one single hand. ]

Why are you calling me 'Miss Lottie' by the way..?

[gravings]

[ Gray blinks at the question, not sure how to answer it. She tries to refer to everyone with proper respect, but it's true that it's not normal in a lot of circles. ]

Then, um... Lottie.

[ She doesn't feel remotely cool or impressive enough to speak on such familiar terms with Lottie, but if it makes Lottie more comfortable, then it shall be so.

Anyway. She obligingly gives Lottie a towel, but stops the door before any attempt to close it again can be made. She takes a breath before saying forcefully (by her standards): ]

I'm sorry, but I have to be blunt. You don't seem okay... Can I come in?

[oomfies]

[ Gray is met with immediate silence, and the faint sound of her breathing slowing and promptly picking up before she insists, ]

I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be okay?

[ It's just a little blood, and some.. Feathers. And maybe more blood and feathers. She glances back at her reflection in the mirror, a droplet of sweat dripping down her cheek before she wipes it away and relents. ]

..S-sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. Of course, you can come in. But I just [ She inhales shakily, ] need a second with the towel before you do, is that alright?

[gravings]

[ Gray isn't terribly surprised when Lottie snaps; Lottie has the sort of proud-seeming personality that doesn't dare to be challenged. It's more surprising when Lottie relents, and Gray breathes a quiet sigh of relief before unstopping the door. ]

... Of course. I'll be here until then.

[ She steps back and gets to figuratively twiddling her thumbs... ]

eustace 🌼

[oomfies]

[ It isn't unusual for Lottie to run into people she knows, at this point. They all ventured through the sea to arrive here, after all, she knows who has made themselves apparent now, more than ever, having endured her sea sickness with them in tow. It doesn't mean she's any less scared running into someone when she opened the barn doors, expression scared and arms tired.

It is a foreboding sight - Eustace, sitting complacent in the corner with all his signs of disease. The feathers, the speckles of blood dotting his skin and the hay, the wood, of the barn. He looks terrible and Lottie is visibly scared, but not of him. ]

..Can I stay here?

[ The barn door closes behind her with a long creak, courtesy of her ailing arms, and it's clear to see she's scared of him saying no. It may not be obvious, at first, but the feathers coating her ankles and knees violently growing and ripping into her skin, only to pluck themselves out once caught on the fabric of her cape, says it all. ]

I-I won't bother you..

[lockedon]

[ The great thing about contagion-afflicted apathy is that, once it sinks its claws deep into him, he finds he doesn't care about anything. About the people slowly wasting away in Venera, about the feathers sprouting willy-nilly from his skin, and especially not about the disturbance that would usually stem from another person invading his personal sanctuary.

Instead of annoyance or a scowl or any of the fifty things Lottie probably expects from him, Eustace instead waves one arm, the feathers dangling off his arm and hand rustling against each other. He seems, if not happier, then at least more content than she's ever seen him, all his usual tension drained from his body. ]

Go ahead. There's plenty of space.

[ Assuming she can find space between the bales of hay and the assorted farmyard tools scattered around. ]

[oomfies]

[ The lack of any real ire or irritation serves to make Lottie even more uncomfortable than she was before, aware that the disease spreading around certainly changes people, but.. ]

Erm. Thanks..

[ He looks so different.. Gross, for one, but completely relaxed. Lottie thinks she's never seen his shoulders hang so carefree before. Has never not seen his jaw clenched or seen him frown to some degree. She ambles towards the center of the barn, stopping midway when the heel of her boot gets caught in the floorboard. She's lethargic in response to getting it out, clearly trying to conserve what little energy she has left. She glances up to him, stares longer before asking what might be her dumbest question to date: ]

Are you [ She audibly winces after feeling something in her ankle crack, ] okay?

[lockedon]

[ That is, in fact, a dumb question, but luckily for Lottie, Eustace is so buzzed on innocence he doesn't even judge her for it. Instead of annoyance or dismissal, there's only mild confusion on his face. ]

Why wouldn't I be?

[ As far as he's concerned, everything is as it should be. Giving in is so much easier than fighting all the time. Why hadn't he learned this lesson earlier on in his life, instead of wasting so much of his life on a mission he was doomed never to complete anyway?

More importantly: ]

Are you okay? [ Don't think he didn't hear that crack. ] Do you need help?

[ Help so he can inject even more innocence into her and they can both be (even more) disgusting and diseased together. ❤️ ]

[oomfies]

[ Wow. Did he just ask her if she was okay??

..Well, that's mean. He's shown concern for her, but not so outright. Or personal, like this. Lottie stares at him, thinking to herself that he's so sick with the Disease™ that it's made him nice to be around, and that's scary (certainly not the protruding wings, or the blood). But the bottom line is she might be stuck in the floor, and her fear of what will happen if she stays like this is more than the fear of contamination, so she nods. ]

[lockedon]

[ Hopefully she doesn't get used to it, because this is the last time it'll ever happen.

Slowly, he rises to his feet, the rustle of feathers against each other, the fabric of his clothes, the walls of the barn, filling the air with a quiet susurrus. His footsteps seem stable at least as he walks towards her, the Disease™ eating away at mostly his mind instead of his muscles and reflexes.

Once he's close enough, he peers down at her. She looks.....hmm, kind of stony. If he tugs at an arm, will she snap? But that would be for the best, right? One less thing to worry about, one fewer shackle to the horribleness known as existence? (No.) There's just enough rationality left in his mind to realize what a bad idea that might be and he changes course, crouching down and positioning his hands - one flat against the floor, the other wrapping carefully around her ankle - so he can pull out her shoe in one swift motion.

The heel comes out with the smallest of pops and Eustace leans back, letting go with a satisfied expression on his face. ]

[oomfies]

[ Oh, this is weird, he's touching her. And the closer he is, the easier it is for her to spy just how disfigured he's become (after all, it was easier to ignore when he was sitting in his little corner, but now he's right next to her!!). She holds her breath, only releases it when she feels her foot is free and she laughs brokenly with relief. ]

Thanks - Eustace..

[ Luckily for her, her body is so busy fighting the contagion that it has no real energy to spare being allergic to him, or the dust, the dirt, the hay, so she's relatively fine being so close like this. It means her mind is clear, even if her body isn't, when she says with a mix of surprise and gratitude: ]

That was really nice of you..

[lockedon]

[ Any other day, this compliment would surely be a momentous occasion, and he would surely be staring at her with a mix of suspicion and disdain. Of course, any other day this scenario would simply never have occurred.

Eustace rises to his feet, and gives Lottie a mild smile. ]

Sure. It's easier being nice than it is being mean, isn't it?

[ Truly, the contagion has really fucked him up. ]

gen 🌸

[oomfies]

[ Lottie has crawled her way out of the barn and into the frying pan, the disease hitting her tenfold and rendering her incapable of even enduring the simplest of tasks like walking. The feathers have littered her skin there the worst, the scarring fresh and still oozing blood amidst the hardening skin. She's cried, and cried, and cried, and has made it as far as resting outside of the barn she found refuge in for a few hours.

She can barely move, and can't feel her hand, and the worst part is she's conscious during all of it. Aware of every painful change to her body, aware of the way fear grips her so heavily when she tries to bend her fingers and she only hears a crack.

Lottie sobs loudly, her good hand gripping the fabric coating her legs. She looks up to the person nearest, and asks pathetically, ]

A-am I going to die?

[epiprocta]

[ Too bad Lottie's companion seems incredibly unreliable at the moment. Not that Gen had left a good impression upon her in the first place, but he'd seemed especially out of sort when he stumbled upon her crying -- giving her a puzzled look but offering her little else before lingering nearby, staring distractedly off into the distance, silent save the periodic rustle of the myriad wings protruding from his shoulders and throat.

It's not until he hears that pitiful question that he finally looks over once more. Blinks languidly, needing a moment too long to focus his vision on Lottie. Then he sighs -- quiet, with a strange tinge of fondness to his exasperation -- before crouching down before her. ]

No, you're not.

[ His tone of voice is casual, almost easy-going. A far cry from the brusque attitude he'd previous treated her to, and Gen holds a hand out as he continues: ]

Stop crying and let me take a look. You really gotta stop crying over everything like that.

[oomfies]

[ Fuck. Not this guy witnessing her skin cracking and being so dry it's painful in her last moments on earth. The tears seem to stream even harder at the realization of this, that she'll die and no one but the guy who hated on her will know it even happened! No one to mourn her passing. No family or friends to even hold her funeral (and have it streamed, it's what the fans would want). But then he answers her in the most.. Weird, way, possible? He's showing.. Kindness?!

Confusion hits her hardest, but the fact someone is being nice to her in her time of need means more than the fact they aren't on the best of terms. Because even if he sounds like he's talking to someone else far away, it's what she wants to hear. Someone telling her to stop crying, to comfort her in her time of need. She brings her hand up, the one that's complete porcelain. It'd make a wonderful sculpture, the way it's frozen itself in position, almost posed to perfection. ]

I-I can't stop crying..

[ She whispers to herself, barely manages to make eye contact with him because she's embarrassed. The cracks on the hand resting in his increase the moment she makes contact with his skin, the limb tender. ]

[epiprocta]

It's a waste of energy, stupid. [ Gen huffs another sigh, brow furrowing as he takes Lottie's hand and carefully turns it one way, then another, to look it over. ] And what does it get you, huh? Why do you think you're always getting bullied by those guys? It's cause you're always sniffling and crying like this. Just grit your teeth and bear it.

[ A pause before his voice lowers to a quieter mumble, almost lost under the sound of the wings that lay twitching and rustling against his throat. ]

You're better than this.

[ It would be a stretch to all his tone of voice gentle at all, especially given his brusque wording and the clear disconnect between the current situation and where he apparently thinks he is. But at least that delinquent veneer usually laid thick over his demeanor is gone in this moment, and Gen sounds younger, almost boyish without it. There's no real anger or irritation in his voice, just an oddly youthful note of stern indignity. Like he's really meaning the best for her, even if his words are harsh. ]

... it's just a scrape, you'll be fine.

[ Too bad whatever meager comfort Lottie might have gleaned from those words is immediately squelched by Gen letting go of her hand without warning. And unless her reflexes are enough to quickly withdraw it, well ... it sure wasn't being held that high above the pavement. ]

[oomfies]

[ Hmm.. It's getting harder to pretend like this is about her when he's clearly crafting a backstory that belongs to someone else. But it's almost interesting, seeing such tender care (physically, at least - verbally is a little less distinctly soft) displayed to her from someone like Gen. She watches his hand turn her own over, feels how rigid her wrist is and she wants to pull away in a panic but forces herself to stop. Breathe (through her mouth, since her nose is currently dripping snot).

His speech meant to instill faith and confidence (she thinks?) in her work semi well, Lottie is still crying by the time he's finishing but she's at least not outright sobbing. She doesn't think she's better than groveling on the dirt because she's so useless by herself in any world, but he sounds like he sort of means it. Just as much as when he declares her hand perfectly fine. She looks up at him, unsure of what to do or think at first, because while she technically isn't dead.. Is this all really fine? Is he fine? Maybe it is? Maybe it's okay to have some faith?

There's silence, and then a sound like glass breaking on the pavement. The only thing she feels is a weight being literally lifted from her shoulders, her arm suddenly lighter. Then, she looks down at the ground, sees a nail she remembers getting done on a finger that's splayed on the ground, chipped and broken for display. Drops of blood from her wrist, a simple nub with the frayed edges half skin, half porcelain, decorating some of the feather white pieces. She's shaking by the time she realizes what happened, and doesn't even force herself to look at her wrist - still hovering quite near Gen's hand - before she screams and crawls back. ]

No, no, no no!! No!!

[ Lottie hyperventilates, heaves and sobs with her whole body and screams even louder when she can only feel one hand grab at the dirt on the ground. ]

Please this can't be happening! No!

[epiprocta]

[ Unfortunately for Lottie, Gen just ... stares in confusion for a moment at the shattered remains of her hand. Even if he were fully lucid he admittedly wouldn't know how to deal with this situation. But addled by the Innocence flowing through his veins, its effects further enhanced by his Legacy, he can't quite re-conciliate the sight of her damaged limb with his delusions at first.

Though for better or for worse, he does eventually bring what he's seeing in line with his hallucinations. At least enough to do more than just crouch before her with a puzzled look at his face. ]

Hey, stop -- [ No doubt that low mutter is lost beneath the sound of her hysterical sobbing at first, and Gen gives a disgruntled noise before leaning in to grab a hand at her shoulder and shake it. Not that hard, but not particularly gently either, just once. ] -- hey, shut up for a second.

[ And regardless of whether that works or not, he grabs her other hand -- the intact one -- by the wrist and jerks it up before she can't damage it any further with her clawing at the ground. ]

Shut up and listen.

[ He's, uh, unintentionally leaning in a little close there as he growls that demand. But at least he huffs and sits back on his haunches as soon as it looks like she's calmed down at least a little bit, giving her more room to breathe. ]

... you're gonna just hurt yourself more if you're gonna cry and scream like this. Let's at least get you somewhere quiet. -- can you stand up?

[ Not that he really thinks getting her somewhere quiet and safe will help with how badly she's shattered -- no, sprained her wrist, but at least it should keep her calm if she can focus on that one specific task, right? ]

[oomfies]

[ When he leans in to growl his demand at her, Lottie feels like vomiting. Her shaking worsens, and she feels even more light headed the longer he talks to her. Luckily, she holds back on giving into that sensation, instead swallowing whatever bile is gathering at the back of her throat and cries even harder. Her teeth bite furiously at her lip, almost scared of what he might do if she doesn't comply and stay quiet.

But even if Gen is an asshole, he wouldn't do anything, right? After all, he's helping her.. Right? Still, he isn't reacting to what just happened. Not like she is. Just how sick is he?

There's some hesitation on Lottie's end, staring up at him and trying not to flex her good hand lest it break. Truthfully, her legs feel like lead, but they aren't as delicate as her broken hand once was. And while she isn't sure what the hell going to someplace quieter would do (is he going to kill her? Is this how she's going to die?), it'd be nice getting up. But she doesn't answer that question right away, instead tries to ask: ]

S-shouldn't we.. Maybe we can..!

[ Put her back together, she wants to say, but her voice dies out in a raspy whisper. ]

[epiprocta]

[ Lottie's right to be mildly concerned; Gen's demeanor remains oddly spacey and unfocused in the face of her desperate plea, and there's a moment's pause before he seems to struggle to shift his gaze towards the jagged stump of her wrist. ]

... what, splint it? [ Yeah, no. His perception of reality is definitely warped beyond repair at the moment. ] I don't know how to do that shit. And not like you can do it for yourself right now.

[ Still, at least this all works out to her immediate benefit for now. Gen's demeanor is exasperated but ultimately cooperative, and that jagged, prickly attitude he'd shown her before is nowhere to be found. ... and everything from the cadence of his voice to his word choice sounds weirdly youthful at the moment. ]

Look, just ... you need to calm down first. I don't think it's that bad. [ To his delusion-fogged mind, her hand really does just look like it's a bit sprained. ] But I'll get you home, then your parents can get you to a doctor's, or whatever. Alright?

[ And with that, he hauls himself up to his feet -- while gently tugging at her wrist, trying to get her to stand, too. They have to walk back to 'her home,' right? ]